


Crossing Over

by Neffectual



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Roxas gone, Sora knows he should be able to continue living his life. He doesn't know why it seems so hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Over

There’s nothing to do but keep walking around, like human frailties don’t exist, like nothing hurts and nothing ever will, like he’s not been ripped open and re-sewn, a doll all out of stuffing. They say that when you kill a man, you learn one thing about yourself – if you can sleep at night again, or not. He may not have killed a man, but his sleep is wracked with sobs and guilt and pleas, just the same. He may not have killed a man with his own hands, but he surely drove it to happen, was surely the reason for his passing. He reads to pass the time in which he cannot sleep, and finds too much thought, and too little belief. The pain is the worst part, though. There’s a school of thought which insists pain is in the mind, and that pain as a physical presence is a misfiring, synapses moving to collide in a way they were never designed to be. Life is an illusion, and reality as we know it – perhaps the cult film has it, though it is more popular for its smut than its philosophy. The books say it best – what sort of divine being would invent pain, and visit it upon their creation? He can therefore only conclude that there is nothing watching them fall, nothing which will care, nothing which will catch them and set them on their feet again. That no one dies for a cause, that nothing happens for a reason, and that no one is coming back from the dead.  
All of these are true, he thinks, and then considers again, gripping his ear lobe the way he does when stressed. All of these are true – except for the last.

Sora spends his days wound around the sunlight, lazily, like a cat, but in truth, he is too twitchy, too uneasy to lie still, the feel of sun on his skin not drawing out the prickling, intense feeling that someone is staring at him, that someone has their eyes on the back of his neck. He can hear the noise, every time he closes his eyes, the faint flicker of a shout, maybe, a scream, perhaps, and he cannot seem to shut it out, once the noise is there. It sounds like someone calling, and he pulls his pillow over his head at night to stop the sound filtering in. It comes, anyway, and he knows that voice, no matter how he may wish he did not. He knows that voice, so alike to his, so close to his own, that face, so like his, and nothing will keep out the demons in the darkness, not even the warm arm thrown over his waist and the hot body pressed against him. Those soft cries can still be heard over the pounding of blood in his ears, through the noise of lips sliding together, past the frenzied sounds of two bodies, taking all they can in darkness and light. He cannot find the words to tell Axel that he can hear it, that he can hear Roxas, calling from that other place, that place where he was, once, and barely existed. Roxas seems to have a stronger presence, he is there, and the screams grow louder every day. Sora wants to ask Axel what he should do, but cannot open his mouth to admit to what his life has cost another. He does not want to know if Axel considers him worth it.

Axel broaches the subject, gently, one night, when they lie together, sweat cooling on their bodies, Axel still inside, softening in the afterglow. He makes a sound, just a small one, which has Sora rolling over, defensive, already snarling that he can hear it too, that he can’t stop hearing it, no matter what he does, as his motion pulls Axel free from him and he can feel the wash of shame staining his cheeks as the wash of semen coats his thighs. Axel doesn’t want to fight, he thinks, but still, there is a line, and it has been crossed now, covered, swallowed whole by the darkness from which that voice screams out, and Axel winces. It hurts him more, Sora thinks, then changes his mind, no, it hurts him more, he is the one who wore Roxas like a coat, not simply fucking him but being him. Axel has no right to miss him as much as Sora does, he’s the one who knows him, knew him, was him. But there’s no silence, apparently, not even in death, not even for things which never really existed in the first place.

There’s a ritual, Axel starts, and Sora already knows it, can see it in his mind’s eye, because they can still communicate like that, even now, apparently. Roxas can show him things, and it makes Sora wonder what they’re doing behind his back, but Roxas screams again, and all is forgotten. They will bring him back, though it takes blood and the moon and the screams grow louder – it is worth it. Axel holds the knife, and Sora’s hand is red, suddenly, thick with blood, dripping into the circle they drew in chalk, bleeding and bleeding, like it won’t ever stop, and Axel’s smiling, that manic, firestarting grin he hasn’t had since Roxas went and Sora came back. He screams, and it sounds so like that of Roxas, he wonders if it hasn’t been his own scream he’s been hearing, all this time.

The two of them smile at each other, and Axel takes him into his arms, pressing kisses between those bright blue eyes, nipping at that pale neck, digging his fingers into slim thighs. They can both still hear it, the screaming, but they’re not bothered by that anymore. The terrible, agonised screaming of... someone. They can’t quite remember who it is, so it can’t be that important. Besides, it will stop soon enough. Axel stretches out a hand – and Roxas grips it.


End file.
